


Most of these will have Edge in them: A Drabble Collection

by TrashTheater



Category: Undertale
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff, M/M, Tags to be added, Yandere!Papyrus, ecto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:01:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashTheater/pseuds/TrashTheater
Summary: So it turns out, I may have a proper little crush on Edge. That’s okay. Because it turns out: so does everyone else!A collection of drabbles (a significant number of which will feature Edge).Ratings, Ships, and Additional Warnings listed in individual chapters.
Relationships: Cash/Coffee, Fellcest, Fontcest - Relationship, Papcest, Spicyhoney, SweetMoney, spicyBBQ
Comments: 89
Kudos: 138





	1. The Answer is _ o _ _ | Fellcest | G

**Author's Note:**

> The winter-time-blues have me pretty sluggish for updates, so I was looking through some of my old stuff like: ‘Huh, I’ve got all these little shorts, maybe I could type them up in the meantime? Make a little drabble collection or something? I’ve got all these different ships too! Fellcest, SpicyHoney, SpicyBBQ… another Fellcest…’ 
> 
> ‘...huh… uhhhh… most of these have Edge in them…’
> 
> ‘...alright! Learned something new about myself today!’
> 
> I have eight of these (mostly complete) so far. Only two of them don’t have Edge in them. I considered taking out the two outliers and throwing them in a different collection, but that’s not how I roll. I’ll update the title if I notice a change in that pattern, haha. For now, enjoy! 
> 
> —————
> 
> [Fellcest | G | Yandere!Papyrus, -sorta, don’t worry, Sans is into it ]

Following the standard routine of screaming, one locked door being kicked down, and at least two violent bursts of magic, breakfast was usually a quiet affair. Sans would sit slumped at the table, chin propped up on the surface, ignoring the decadent breakfast in front of him until he had finished at least half a cup of coffee, forgoing any sustenance other than caffine at fuck-o-clock in the morning. Papyrus was unperturbed, knowing he would get to it eventually, and silently ate his own meal while he read through some reports or, on rare mornings, actually had the opportunity to work on a puzzle book. 

Sans liked those mornings a lot. It relaxed him to see his brother get to relax for once, not a luxury either of them got the chance to enjoy very often. And it eased his soul to listen to Papyrus mutter, mulling over certain questions out loud. Sometimes he would leave an opening for Sans to chip in, possibly hoping to encourage his brother to take a more vested interest in puzzling, which Sans was happy to join in, earning various levels of approval and scorn depending on how seriously he decided to take the question. 

But most of the time he just liked to listen, letting the rough timber of Papyrus’s voice wash over him, not aiding him particularly in shaking off the drowsiness. 

“Six letter word… for an old story often believed to be true...”

Sans watched the back of the pen flick against the table, clicking rapidly before Papyrus filled in the answer. With a flare of satisfaction, he exchanged the writing utensil for his mug as he read the next clue. 

Heaving a sigh that bordered on a groan, Sans finally dragged his head off the table, awake enough now to tackle the chore of eating, and poked listlessly at the perfectly constructed omelette on his plate. He’d scarf it down the second it hit his tongue, but that first bite was always a challenge…

Ceramic clacked against the table as Papyrus hummed. “...A four letter word… for something you spend your whole life pursuing. Something amazing and perfect…” 

Sans snapped up straight. Excitement burst like a balloon in his chest, his face lighting up as he barked out the answer: “boss!” 

His exclamation was followed by a prolonged, heavy silence that seemed to reverberate through the kitchen. With exceeding slowness, Papyrus quietly lowered his book. Sans bounced in his chair, his already genuine grin growing even wider as Papyrus stared at him for the longest moment, expression completely unreadable. 

“Sans.” He wasn’t prepared for the dead-serious tone his brother took. “If you ever decide to leave me, you better make sure that you run somewhere I can never find you.”

Sans sputtered. “w-wha-?” 

“Because I promise that I will find you,” Papyrus continued, ignoring the interruption. “I will burn down the entire Underground to find you. I will kill _anyone_ who gets in my way.” His eyes were cold and hard, unyielding as they burned into Sans. “And then I will drag you back here. And I will break every. Single. Bone. In your body, until I am satisfied that you will never be able to escape me again. You will not _get_ a second chance. Is that understood?” 

Sans stared at him, jaw working soundlessly. 

Satisfied with that response, Papyrus picked up the pen to fill in the answer. “I can’t believe that fits…” 

Sans let out a pathetic little whine, breakfast forgotten as he scrambled out of his chair and clambered into Papyrus’s lap. The taller let out an annoyed grunt. 

“boss!” he babbled, eye lights vibrant little hearts as he began bouncing and gyrate against him. “ain’t never gonna leave ya. say it again. please? boss! boss~!” 

“GET OFF ME YOU MISCREANT! I’M TRYING TO ENJOY MY BREAKFAST!” 

The morning after that was a little less quiet. Sans’s breakfast was cold by the time he got to it, but Papyrus never did get to finish his crossword. 

(The answer was love.)


	2. What Do [You] Want? | SpicyBBQ | G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [SpicyBBQ | G | Secondhand embarrassment (Not too bad, I hope)]
> 
> Another breakfast story (what was I super hungry when I wrote these?). A little longer than I thought it would be but, whatever!

In so much as nothing had yet caught on fire, this breakfast get together was a rousing success. 

Under Blue’s diligent watch, and despite Papyrus’s overzealous attempt to instill the correct amount of ‘passion’ into them, the sausages had come out beautifully and the bacon was shaping up to follow the same path. The waffles were already finished, Razz now set on making small talk, retired to the seat next to his brother. Stretch, Sans, and Red were wide awake, early morning be damned, shooting jibes back and forth whip-fast, putting in a solid effort to really _earn_ those indignant screams from their brothers. 

And Slim? He was taking advantage of the chaos to indulge in some heavy, longing stares, and wispy, forlorned sighs. 

Edge cut a striking figure, standing at the stovetop. He outclassed everyone in attendance in his casual wear, all wrapped up with a bow in a ‘ **Don’t touch** ’ ~~Kiss~~ ‘The Cook’ apron. His sleeves were shoved up to the elbows, exposing the pretty bones beneath while he worked the griddle, trading chitchat in that low, sensual tone of his. 

Beside him Razz cleared his throat, shooting him a look. A not-so-subtle warning that he was staring. Slim ignored him. No one else was paying any attention. The little table was not meant to seat eight people and—crammed in the corner as he was—no one was going to notice him. His hood hid him well enough, even with his head propped up on his hand, and breathing out near-audible streams of admiration with each exhale. 

Razz rolled his eyes and turned back to the conversation, leaving Slim to make whatever mistakes he wanted on his own. 

Such as taking the time to really _appreciate_ how well those tight pants clung to outline the shape of Edge’s pelvis, or the slender notch of his waist, clearly outlined by the tug of the apron ties. There was an elegance in the way he held himself.The graceful dignity of a warrior that radiated from his every movement, even in something as simple as preparing breakfast. 

Was that as stupid as it sounded? Edge flipped pancakes with the beauty of a trained fighter…? 

Whatever…

“ALRIGHT,” Blue declared as Papyrus rescued the last few slices from the sizzling pan. “THE BACON IS ALL READY,” 

“THEY ARE ONLY AT MEDIUM-CRISPYNESS.” Papyrus turning off the stove, lamenting what looked like a perfect plate of bacon. “I HOPE EVERYONE FINDS THAT AGREEABLE.” 

“The pancakes are almost done as well.” Edge turned and Slim further admired the swing of his hips. “Lets begin serving.” 

“the crunch doesn’t matter as much as the taste, bro,” Sans said, tilting his head back to inhale deeply. “they smell great.” 

“THAT IS AN EXCELLENT POINT! WE WILL HAVE TO AWAIT THE TASTE-TEST BEFORE ANY JUDGEMENTS CAN BE PAST.” 

“There are pancakes or waffles, brother. Which do you want?” Edge’s smooth voice carried over the chatter, gifting Slim with each syllable. He did his best to drown out the rest, not really listening so much as just letting the sound wash over him. 

“you know i can’t pass on yer jacks, boss. stack ‘em high.” 

“i want both,” Stretch said, rapping on the top of the table. “red, pass the honey.” 

“DO NOT PASS HIM THE HONEY. NONE OF US WILL GET ANY.”

“Noted, Stretch.” The amused glint in those fiery-red eye lights looked so appealing when they finally turned Slim’s way. “What do you want, Slim?” 

Slim let out another soft sigh. The answer came to him before he had any time to examine it. 

“you.”

By the time he registered what had just come out of his mouth, the clatter in the kitchen had completely died down and everyone’s attention had shifted to him. They all got to watch as that dreamly, far-away look faded, replaced by the slow dawn of pure, unadulterated horror. 

Beside him, Razz dropped his face into his hand with a disappointed sigh. 

A monstrous blush flooded Slim’s face. Stretch burst into laughter, joined by Sans who smacked his fist against the table hard enough to make the dishes rattle. 

“i-i-i-!” he sputtered, mortified. 

Papyrus covered his mouth in startled sympathy, shooting a look at Blue, who was staring wide-eyed, searching for a quick way to rectify that awkward exchange with no luck. 

“slim…” At the other end of the table, there was a menacing crack of bone. Red cocked his head to gaze down the length of the table. His sockets were pitch black, wide grin fictitious and sinister. “ya...wanna run that by us again, buddy? cause it sounded ta me like ya were-” *Smack* “-ow!”

“Silence, runt.” Edge said sharply, while Red scrubbed his skull where the spatula had hit him. When Edge looked back up, there was a faint red flush across his high cheekbones. Slim would have found fetching if this wasn’t turning into the worst day of his life. “I meant for breakfast, Slim. I am… not on the menu.”

This earned another burst of laughter from the two chucklefucks, and Slim sank rapidly in his chair. 

Yup. 

Well… 

He should probably just—uh—die now? Yeah... That was probably the best plan here. Without another word he hopped a shortcut right out of there. 

“OH DEAR...” Papyrus muttered, wringing his hands, sweat building on his skull. “THAT WAS NO SO GOOD, I THINK…” 

“BROTHER, PLEASE!” 

“I had better go get him,” Razz said, his shoulders squared as he pushed away from the table. “Everyone please continue without us.” 

“No,” Edge interjected, a little too quickly, already untying the apron. Razz gave him a narrow look and Edge held it unwavering. “I should be the one to go.” 

“boss, i don’t-” Red was cut off by an apron flung to the face. 

Razz held for another moment, and Edge waited through the appraisal before rushing to the door when Razz finally nodded and sat back down. 

“Don’t wait for us,” he called back, grabbing his jacket and storming out the door, disappearing into the white of Snowdin. 

Grumbling, Red dragged the apron off his head, dropping it on the floor. Papyrus scooped it up, a practical outlet for his distress, while Razz took Edge’s advice and went about serving himself, unconcerned. 

The two toddlers continued their snickering until Blue finally spun on them, all puffed up. “BROTHER, SANS, WOULD YOU TWO PLEASE CONTROL YOURSELVES!?” 

They both gasped out an apology, waving away his worries with wild hand gestures, still giggling as they exchanged looks. They hadn’t meant any harm by it. It was just… 

Well… 

_It was about damn time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m getting a lot of practice in fawning over people lately... Let me know what you think! Next up is Valentines day (it’s going to be late (...given…) but there will be po~e~try~)!


	3. Secret Admirer | SpicyHoney | T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spicyhoney | T | Fluff]
> 
> Happy belated Valentines Day! I expect White Day gifts~

As the human had explained it, Valentines Day was more the celebration of the _sentimental_ sort of love, and less a chaotic blood-sport meant to be spent establishing dominance in the local social order and increasing ones LOVE, as it was in Underfell (Apparently, there had been something lost—likely intentionally—in translation of the ‘human historical documents’ found in the dump). Edge found this new version to be a vast improvement on the original, if a little saccharine, and he had spent the better part of the last two months planning for it. 

The dating guide had been firm about ‘setting the scene’ and ‘waiting for the right moment’. And as the self-proclaimed ‘most romantic day of the year’, it was irrefutably the only suitable day for Edge to begin his courtship and finally approach Stretch about his romantic intentions. 

Never one to do anything half-heartedly, Edge had taken pains to make sure every aspect of this venture was up to his standards. His outfit had taken multiple shopping trips to procure, seeking out the exact correct mix of presentability and sex appeal. 

His inventory was filled with seasonally-appropriate offerings guaranteed to earn favor, including two dozen red roses, which he’d been assured was both romantic and unnecessary over the top; a sizable and completely asinine plush toy; and a box of impractically-shaped homemade chocolates, although they were less impractical than he’d initially thought (weeks of experimenting down the drain upon discovering humans used inverted soul-shapes instead of anatomically correct human hearts. The surplus had gone to Red who’d much appreciated the mistake). All and all, Edge felt more than prepared for this interaction.

Assuming Stretch ever decided to Open The God Damn _DOOR_. 

Edge pounded on the wood for the third time, the standard number indicating there was no one home. He’d called ahead, days in advance in fact, to make sure that nothing would interrupt such an important occasion. More so Stretch had been adamant about having the entire day free, and should have been expecting him. So why wasn’t he answering? 

The door was unlocked—dangerous—and he peeked into the darkened living room with growing disappointment. 

The usual nature of their relationship had always hopscotched back and forth over the thick line between ‘companionable’ and ‘likely to be at each other's throats’, but Edge had always been under the impression their banter was of the flirtatious variety. Particularly as of late… so when Stretch had enthusiastically agreed to meet on that day in particular Edge had thought, perhaps, that they were mutually aware of where all of this had been heading… 

Standing alone in the doorway to an empty house, his confidence took a hit, and he had to take a moment to reassess the situation. 

It was only noon, he concluded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Stretch might not have even gotten out of bed yet. It was his day off, and he was a pretty heavy sleeper, so Edge made his way up the stairs. 

The tension in his body eased when he pushed open the bedroom door to find Stretch was indeed still sleeping soundly. He was not, however, sprawled out on the unmade mattress like Edge had expected. Instead, Stretch had fallen asleep at the old, second-hand dining table that serves as his desk, a mess of loose paper crumpled up all around him, spilling onto the floor. In his slack grip, a pencil remained precariously poised for use as though he’d fallen asleep mid-word. 

Edge let himself in with a fond sigh. Up all night working on another project, then… He supposed the confession would have to wait, plucking the pencil from his hand and returning it to the desk.

Stretch did little more than mumble and snuggle closer when he was picked up and gingerly carried over to the bed. Edge laid him down, resisting the temptation to admire his soft, sleeping form—or anything that could be perceived as equally creepy—and covered him with a blanket, before turning to straighten up the mess. 

He grabbed the waste basket and started stuffing it with trash spheres. It was already half full of rejected ideas, but he just packed them in, knowing he’d have to leave them all right there in case Stretch realized he’d tossed an important thought. 

He got through a good chunk of them before curiosity got the better of him and he loosely nudged one of the sheets open with his thumb. He wasn’t likely to understand the content anyways, given Stretch’s usual field of interest, however what he found was a reasonably legible list of adjectives in Stretch’s messy scrawl. 

_strong, graceful,_ ~~_sexy_~~

~~_fuck me heels_~~ _red, black_

~~_intimidating_~~ _cool_ _, badass??? _~~_jackass_~~

_confident_

Edge arched a brow, forgoing any further pondering to simply open another sheet. 

~~_when i think of_ ~~

_my thoughts scatter_ ~~_when i think_~~

_when you are close._

~~_my heart beats_~~ ~~_soul???_~~

_i_ _~~str~~ _ _suffocate when you draw near._

_wondering_

_????_

It ended there, the rest of the page void of any other marks or notes. Edge dropped the basket on the table, immediately unfolding another sheet. 

_last week i dreamt about your hand in mine,_

_we sat_ ~~_under the stars_~~ _in the yard,_

_under the stars_

_last week i dreamt about your laugh,_

~~_the one i don’t hear very often_ ~~

~~_the one not that_ ~~

_a real one???_

_smile? happy?_

_last week i dreamt_

It was poetry. Or—at least—an attempt at it, the words trailing off again, large sections scribbled over, and ultimately discarded. His eyes dropped back to the ground, sweeping over the desk and trash basket, each still littered with rejects, the number of which easily surpassing dozens. 

Taking only a moment to smooth out the sheet, Edge placed it on a clear corner of the desk and opened another one. 

_eyes??_ ~~ _pretty_~~ ~~_warm_~~ _ red _

_s ~~cary??~~_ _(he might like scary actually???)_

_fierce, bright, burn/_ _fire_

_hands - rough, gentle,_ ~~_scars?_~~ _white, bone, strong_

_mouth -_

~~_when i look in your eyes i_ ~~

~~_your eyes are like fire_ ~~

_the fire in your eyes chills me to the bone._

_~~(that's kinda fun)~~ _ _(_ _NO!!!_ _it’s a PUN __he_ _WILL HATE!!!_ _)_

_they burn into my soul_ _~~exciting, scary~~ _ _exhilarating, terrifying._

_they are too sharp._

~~_i’m afraid of what you’ll see_ ~~

This one was covered in messy scribbles, so rough parts of the page had ripped. Edge wanted to wipe them away. Instead, he added it to the pile, and reached for another one. 

_violets are red,_

_roses are blue,_

_none of that’s right_

_god i wanna fuck you_

That one caught him off guard, a laugh nearly breaking free. Recovering quickly, Edge glanced at the bed to make sure Stretch was still sleeping soundly. 

_is it strange that i want you to hold me?_

_that i want to be wrapped in your arms?_

_is it strange that i feel safe there?_

_knowing what i know._

_but knowing that you’d never hurt me._

_is it weird that i want you to kiss me?_

_when we’re fighting you’re always so close._

_is it weird i want you to lean in?_

_feel your teeth against mine._

_feel your tongue in my mouth._

_is it funny i want you to touch me?_

_want you to hold me down._

_want_

There was a big ‘X’ across the page, the second stroke weak and unfinished. Despite having the least amount of corrections or edits, somehow the writing gave off an air of dejection. Each letter was particularly careless, with large, lethargic shapes, this one crumpled extra tight before it was finally tossed away. Edge reread it twice, taking extra care to iron out the creases as best he could with his fingers. 

Another.

_shall i compare thee to a summer day?_

~~_because you’re super hot and make me sweat~_ ~~

Edge had to put that one down, taking a long moment to collect himself. There was a big star in the corner with the note: _‘this one’s a winner!’_ The next one was even worse. 

_who's got two thumbs,_

_and one big boner 4 you?_

_this guy!_

_if i could rearrange the alphabet_

_i could put U and I together,_

_except i’d rather put it between_

_F _ C K M E_

_hey baby, those pants would look good on my floor,_

_but your gonna have to help me with that_

_Because how the fuck did you get them on???_

_i’ve come down with ‘need to be dicked’-itis_

_the names stupid, but i’m afraid it_ _is_ _terminal, so…_

The note on this one said _‘these are all super romantic. 10/10’_ , and Edge had to nod his agreement. Quiet charming, eloquent even, not lacking refinement in the slightest. He smiled, grabbing another.

~~_E_ ~~

~~_D_ ~~

~~_G_ ~~

~~_P_ ~~

~~_A_ ~~

~~_P_ ~~

_E_ ~~ _legant_ _xcellent_~~ _xtra_

_D_ ~~ _elicious_ _deadly? dangerous?_~~ _drop dead_

_Gorgeous_

_E????_

Another.

_i like your_ _stupid _ _face!_

**_ASSHOLE!!!_ **

Oh, well, that one was his favorite so far… 

The rest of the papers were each filled with similar content, some sporting frustrated scribbles, others marked with little doodles of hearts or bones in the margins, and one that had been almost completely blacked out, even torn to shreds for good measure (but might still be decipherable if _someone_ were to collect all the pieces and put them back together…) 

Edge froze at a sound from the bed. His soul jumped into his throat as Stretch rolled over, but when there was no follow up movement Edge rapidly began stacking the pages, grabbing each one, including the last one Stretch had been working on and carefully snatching the ones caught up in the trash tornado. 

The whole pile was shoved safely into his inventory. 

This certainly wasn’t how Edge had expected this day to go. If Stretch woke up and Edge was still here, he would certainly try to demand them back, and that wouldn’t do. Edge would have to retreat. He needed time to stash his finding, reconsider his plans, and… 

...besides, he had a lot of reading to do. 

Not about to waste _all_ of his time preparing, Edge withdrew his gifts and arranged them beside the mattress for Stretch to find when he woke up. After a moment of consideration, he grabbed a blank piece of paper and wrote: 

_From your secret admirer_

-making no attempt to disguise his handwriting, before shoving the note inside the flowers. 

Satisfied, he allowed himself to linger this time, savoring the peaceful image of contentment, the steady rhythm of Stretch’s soft breathing. Then—with a perfectly smug expression—he got up and headed home, already concocting a fresh battle plan. 

All and all, he considered this Valentines Day to be a rousing success. 

. . . . . 

Some time later, Blue’s very-romantic-first-time-on-the-surface-valentines-day picnic was interrupted by a sharp series of pings from his phone. 

**Messages from Papy**

[ SANS!! ]

[ for the LOVE OF GOD!!! ]

[ PLEASE tell me u came in & cleaned my room this morning!!!! ] 

[ SANS!??!!?!1? ] 

[ CALL ME! ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geeeeeeeeeez!! ...this story was the proper length before I made it Valentines-themed. I promise! The formatting on this one was a pain, but I hope it comes out clear enough! 
> 
> (Also I’ve learned that I was very wrong about what drabbles are… not sure what to do about that…)
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think~!


	4. Expected Results | Fellcest/Platonic | G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fellcest/PlatonicFellBros | G | N/A]

The front door slammed shut with a force that made Red think his usual afternoon taunt was best left... on the _backburner_ for now. 

Red hurried to wash his hands, feeling a little smug about his good timing. He’d had some extra motivation and energy today, so not only had he done the dishes from breakfast— _without_ being told—but dinner only needed a few more minutes in the oven. He wasn’t the best cook, by a long shot, but seeing Red try at something, _anything_ , always did wonders to improve his brother's mood. 

Bonus points if he managed to salvage what sounded like an extra-shitty day! 

“hey bro,” he greeted, pouring on some excess enthusiasm as he poked out into the living room. “dinners almost-” 

He stopped, bones locking in place, sockets flickering to complete darkness. 

“-w h a t t h e f u c k h a p p e n e d?” 

Edge paused at the base of the stairs, hand on the railing, foot planted on the third step like he’d been planning to race up. 

Delicately speaking: Edge looked like _shit_. His usually well-maintained uniform was torn in numerous spots. His bones were lined with new scratches and fresh marrow; his right arm sporting a brand new all-out crack for his collection. And his expression was tight, narrow, giving Red the kind of quick side-glance that suggested he was contemplating making a break for it. 

(They both knew how well that would work out for him.) 

He’d been in a fight. And not some ‘sparring session with Undyne that got too heated’ or a ‘knocked the fear-of-god into some wayward-soul headed down a dark path’ kinda fight. A gritty fight, an ‘underhanded, outnumbered, fight for your life’ sort of fight. 

“P a p y r u s .” 

Letting out a breath, Edge turned to him, crossing his arms and lifting his chin: The picture of defence and defiance. Except for the part where he refused to make eye contact. 

“I slipped.” 

For a few seconds, there was nothing about those words that processed correctly, and Red was pretty sure he’d misheard. As if a simple _slip_ could actually explain away those injuries. Much less that Edge—his intuitive, five-steps-ahead, strategically adept little brother—could possibly believe that Red would buy such an obvious crock of absolute bullshit. 

Then came the rush of unbridled fury. A _lie?!_ Edge was _lying_ to him!? A- _fucking_ -gain!? 

They were supposed to be past this. Past the lies and the secrets. They had rules. They had rules, and agreements, and _promises._ They were supposed to rely on each other, not brush serious problems under the rug like they weren’t even there! 

“ **w h a t . . . ?** “ he hissed, already working out the plans to track down his brothers assailant, stockpiling ideas on how to strange the information out of them about why Edge was protecting them. 

“I slipped,” Edge repeated haughtily, a dark flush of anger gracing his cheekbones. 

“what, off a _cliff!?_ ” 

“No.” He looked away even more aggressively, puffing out his chest with a level of arrogance only he could muster. “On a patch of ice.” He huffed loudly. “I was—w-wasn’t… I was caught off guard! I took too long to recover and some troublemakers from town thought it was their lucky day.” 

Red blinked, reprocessing. 

“Their first attack was unusually competent, but I took care of it.” That defencive posture was making a return, Edge’s shoulders visibly tightening. “No one saw. And those brats certainly won't be trying anything like that a second time!” 

Red watched him, still unpacking that information, as eye lights flicker to him and back. Rapidly. Searching. The red flush on his cheekbones getting stronger, as he shifted, agitated, but not in _anger_ … 

Red could see it now: Edge strutting home with all his pompous, badass swagger (in those three-inch-heel-fuck-me boots he insisted on wearing); only for all seven feet of his usually-graceful-under-pressure-ass to come crashing down—no doubt complete with all matter of dramatic flairing—and being momentarily stunned as he wondered what the _fuck_ just happened. To add insult to injury: being jumped by a couple of _kids_ , taking some _actually_ damage? 

Red tried to fight it, but his mouth twitched. 

Red magic blazed as it honed in on him. “DON’T YOU DARE LAUGH!” 

Oh, that wasn’t helping. Red covered his mouth, the image repeating in his head coupled well with the adorably-neon way his brother was now glowing. 

“Oh, go fuck yourself!” Edge barked, turning to stomp up the stairs. 

“bro! -snk- wait!” He chased after him, but Edge was faster, making it halfway up the stairs before Red resorted to catching him with blue magic. 

“PUT ME DOWN!” Edge demanded, struggling as Red tugged him over to the couch, still shaking with poorly-concealed giggles. 

“Aw, come on boss,” He had to hold Edge down, pulling out a med kit. “i just wanna treat your injuries.” Edge continued to glare, full on pouting now and—oh—Red just couldn’t help it. “No need to be so… _icy_ bro.”

“I will SHANK you!”

“that’s so _cold_ , boss.” 

“In your SLEEP!” 

Red snickered, getting right to work on his injured arm. In hindsight, most of the wounds were shallower than he’d initially thought, the clothes having taken a disproportionate amount of damage without much to show for it. It was starting to look exactly like one lucky, clumsy, opening move; the injuries radiating excitement more than hateful intent. Still, Edge hissed lightly as Red dabbed the crack with medication and wrapped it up. 

“jokes aside… ya really alright?” 

Edge scoffed, sagging into the couch. “Yes, Brother. I am perfectly alright. It was an accident and a small scuffle. Hardly worth all this fuss.” He said it dismissively, but the remaining blush betrayed him . 

Red grinned and—on a whim—leaned forward to give the bandage a ‘get better’ kiss. 

Edge knocked him away with a furious flail. “I’m not a babybones!” But Red could almost see a smile and he counted that as a win. 

“the rest of these will heal up with some food,” Red said. His cooking wasn’t as potent as Edge’s but his intent always worked it’s best on his bro. Something to do with love or whatever. “Good thing dinner’s all finished. made ya favorite: meatloaf surprise~” 

“You made dinner?” Edge asked, an excited pride sneaking into his voice, just like Red had hoped, not even bothering to argue that meatloaf surprise was not his favorite, even if he did enjoy the prize inside. 

“Sure did.” Red grinned. “thought it was an _ice_ thing to do once in a while.” 

Edge stopped, halfway into the act of standing, to pin him with another glare. “ _Sans..._ ”

“whoops, sorry boss.” He waited for Edge to look satisfied with that response, before he winked. “that one _slipped_.” 

Edge shoved his ass right off the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think~! Stay safe everyone! 
> 
> Next chapter should be the first to not feature Edge. Which will make the ratio... 4 of 5. Perfectly balanced. As all things should be.


	5. Wrapped in Plastic | Cash/Coffee | G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a chat I was having with Hawifi and Emrys on Twitter! This was a poly idea, but I wanted to keep it short, and I latched on to one of the ideas with Coffee~
> 
> This wasn’t the chapter I was intending to post next, but… *shrug* 
> 
> [Cash/Coffee | G | Fluff]

“mornin’,” Cash said, as he sauntered up to a particularly nondescript corner store at nearly two in the afternoon. On the ground before him was the skeleton he’d expected to see, although he was forced to survey the rest of the scene with an arched brow. “what are you doing?” 

It wasn’t clear when—or _how_ —it had become a habit, but somehow, once a week, every Sunday, he and Coffee had settled into a routine of meeting up to go for a stroll through the park. It wasn’t the kind of tradition Cash would have picked himself, the seedy little shop and mundane exploit lacking the sort of extravagance he would have prefered to lavish the smaller skeleton with… but it was strangely gratifying. Just having the opportunity to buy Coffee whatever treat he wanted, grabbing a few scratch offs that Cash never won, and then just… taking a walk. Sometimes talking, sometimes in complete silence, watching Coffee munch on his snack, just getting to enjoy being by his side. 

It wasn’t what he would have picked, but Cash wasn’t about to confirm this gift-horse was even a horse, much less the state of its teeth.

This time, however, when he approached that rundown shop that Coffee prefered, Coffee wasn’t waiting for him on one of the picnic tables, listening to headphones and kicking his legs in rhythm. Instead, he was scrunched up on the sidewalk, knees pulled up to his chin amidst a sea of plastic bobbles and neon lids. A hard line of concentration threaded his brow bone as he turned the crank to one of those cheap gotcha machines, snatching up the prize it choked out, and popping it open. Obviously the results were dissatisfying as he discarded it among its fallen comrades without a second glance. 

Two more coins were inserted from the small pile of quarters at his feet. 

Cash didn’t ask again. He knew that look. Coffee would be there until he got whatever he was after or ran out of change. The machine was plastered over with fresh stickers advertising ‘Brand New Prizes!!’ and Cash wondered what had caught his interest. 

Cash eyed the capsules and coins—mentally calculating how much the little venture was putting him back by, so Cash could slip it back into his wallet when he wasn’t looking—and headed into the store. 

He debated over Coffee's favorite ice creams, wondering if they’d melt before Coffee was finished. He decided he'd just buy another if it did, and blew a few bills on a bad habit he hadn’t— _yet_ —figured out how to cheat. By the time he’d strolled out the door, Coffee was on his feet, clutching his reward. The second he noticed Cash he stumbled past the plastic minefield to proudly thrust his victory in his face with open palms. 

Cash squinted and picked it up, both because he couldn’t see it when it was so close and before it had the chance to fall in and fuck up his good socket.

It was some kind of cheap toy ring, similar to the rest of the castoffs, except it wasn’t plastic. At least not entirely. The band was made of paper thin metal, likely to break by the third use like the world's shittiest magic lamp. It was coated in some of the worst gold paint he’d ever seen, and in the center was a chunk of rather gaudy, fuchsia plastic, halfheartedly cut in a shoddy mimicry of a proper gem stone. At the very least it did seem a higher quality then the other hunks of junk on the ground. 

For a fifty cent ring, it could almost be worth a full dollar. 

Cash looked up, uncertain, trying to figure out the significance of the trinket from Coffee’s expression, so he could react properly. He failed, but he didn’t have to wait long before Coffee flipped open his notebook and jotted something down. 

He turned it around. _‘look! it's the pretty one!’_

Cash glanced back at the mess while Coffee went back to writing. It was… the ‘nicest’ one, anyways…

When the notebook faced him again Coffee had circled _‘pretty’_ and peppered it with question marks. His face was half obscured by the notebook, but his sockets were scrunched with hope and excitement. 

That expression made him weaker than any direct blow with a sledgehammer would have. The stupid thing wasn’t his style—not by any stretch of the imagination—but there wasn’t enough gold in the world to make him denounce something that made Coffee smile like that. 

His own mouth quirked up in response. “yup,” he said, with honest enthusiasm. “prettiest damn ring i’ve ever seen. it’s a real _cut_ above the rest.” Coffee laughed and that was Cash’s prize for the day. He reached forward to take one of those gloved hands. “here, let me put it on ya.” 

Coffee jerked away, that warmth shifting into a deep frown of disapproval. Cash withdrew, fast enough he nearly dropped the technically-a-ring. 

Shit! Was it a ‘no touching’ day? But Coffee was scribbling in the notebook again, his bone brow furrowed in concentration. Sharp, quick strokes. 

He flipped it back around, and jammed his pointer against the sheet. _’for you.’_ Above it, the words _‘It’s’_ and _‘pretty’_ had been underlined harshly, the rest of the sentence scribbled out. 

Cash read it more than once, more than a few times, before the words finally registered. 

_...oh._

Coffee didn’t wear rings. Coffee didn’t wear much in the way of any jewelry. But Cash did. He wore rings. He wore rings, and bracelets, and just about any shiny trinket he could get his hands on. Coffee had gotten it for _him_. The prettiest one in the box.

“oh…” he said, out loud this time, sounding like a complete idiot. He could already feel the heat rushing across his cheekbones as he reexamined the small treasure. 

It was a little cheap, but it certainly had its own charm. Sure, the paint was on the ‘cost efficient’ side of things, but it had a strong metallic shimmer, and an even coating on all sides. The thin metal was clearly intended to be resizable, making it functional _and_ versatile. It was even purple! His favorite color!

It was clearly better than the rest of the other crappy knockoffs. Frankly, it had probably gotten mixed in with those ones by accident. 

Not wasting any more time, he spread out his fingers, debating which ring to replace before yanking them all off. It would stand out better on its own. He shoved the rest deep in his pocket, where they were unlikely to fall out. Not that it would be a great loss if they did. 

The new ring was added right to the center, carefully, with extra attention paid to its delicate framework. 

Once settled, he flexed his fingers admiring the way the sun hit the ‘gemstones’ flat surfaces. “what do ya think?” he asked, showing it off. 

Coffee nodded once, content, before his focus shifted to the shopping bag and the familiar packaging inside. Another excited smile worth every dollar in Cash’s pocket. 

They used the empty bag to gather up the rest of the discarded bobbles, slapping a ‘free’ sign on it for any of the local kids to grab and the two of them headed to the park. Coffee didn’t seem much for conversation that day, happily munching on his still mostly-frozen treat, and that was fine with Cash. In all honesty, he was unashamed to admit that he spent the majority of the trip admiring his new favorite ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This doesn’t quite hit the right tone of the original ideas... but it works ok for a stand alone story. Hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Original thread: https://twitter.com/hawifi1/status/1251763242080190466?s=21


	6. New Horizons | SpicyHoney | T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [SpicyHoney | T | Crossover, freaking… _Animal Crossing New Horizons_ ]
> 
> It’s a little late, because I’m so slow, but here’s the inevitable result to my sinking entirely too much of my life into one single Nintendo franchise: freaking... Papcest crossed with Animal Crossing! 
> 
> This fic assumes the both ACNH universe rules make sense and no one finds them weird, but also still takes legitimate work? Enjoy!

Warm summer sun and a gorgeously crisp, breeze coming in across the ocean made the ideal combination to sit back, relax, and enjoy the generous bounty often ascribed to an island paradise—as such and needless to say, Edge was instead hard at work constructing yet another fence. 

Wiping away the sweat, Edge took a moment to relish in the oceanic wind before returning to his work, the last couple of boards laid out in the rich, green grass. He’d been diligently attending to various tasks around the island since sunrise, and this would be the last one for the day. He preferred to wrap things up before the heat peeked, which left plenty of time to grab a quick dip in the ocean to cool off before heading home to start preparing dinner. 

His thoughts were shuffling through meal plans when a shadow overhead cut off the sunlight. Hints of ash and honey mingled with the salty air. 

“whatcha up to, edgelord?” 

Edge didn’t even pause in his work, not needing to look to recognize the island resident—one of his lazybone neighbors, Stretch. A persistent source of _relatively_ good-natured teasing and sass since his arrival. 

“Building you a fence.” 

Stretch snorted, crossing his arms over the top of the fence and leaning into it. “yeah, i can see that hotshot. why?” 

How nice of him to test the structural integrity, Edge thought, just thankful he’d chosen to administer that exam on a section he’d already secured. Satisfied it wasn’t about to collapse, Edge lined up another nail. 

“Because when I suggested you move your house over here, it was so everyone would have enough room for a yard.” If Stretch was bothered by the hammering, he didn’t mention it. “So that everyone would stop leaving random things in the park. Or the garden-” He looked up with a slight growl. “-or the middle of the street.” 

Stretch ducked down into his folded arms with a sheepish-sort of smile. “that was a… um… modern art project. The lava lamp symbolized the ever shifting dynamics of our modern society.” 

“And what did the rice cooker symbolize?” 

Sheepish gave way to a wolfishly-wide grin. “running out of room to carry shit!” 

Edge just rolled his eyes before returning to work. “Well, now you'll have your own yard to throw down your junk.” 

Stretch continued to watch him for another moment, before shooting a guiltily glancing back at the row of houses behind him, each one surrounded by a tidy little fence. He had actually noticed them popping up over the week, but hadn’t thought anything of it until now.

“i um… oops, i guess?” He rubbed at the back of his skull. “i didn’t mean to put you out. was i… the only one that didn’t get the memo?” 

Edge flickered another glance up at him, then away. “No.” 

Stretch processed that for a minute before letting out a laugh. “ah, well, that makes much more sense.” 

Letting Red pick the new island had been a terrible idea. And Edge should have known it, or at very least, recognized the island seemed a little too good to be true. 

The last community they’d lived in had been fully developed and too densely populated. There had never been much room for Edge to lay his own tracks. As a newly discovered island, there was an abundance of potential, with plenty of room for Edge to implement his own touch without stepping on anyone’s toes. His brother had—in _hindsight_ —been notably quick to vetting out the residence while Edge explored, and with that out of the way, they’d agreed to begin move in that very day. 

It was only after they’d settled in that Edge learned the truth: The island had been settled for years! The only reason is was underdeveloped was because his brother had conned him into moving to a town populated entirely by _lazybones!_

Edge glared at the memory. The residents were all friendly at least. They never hesitated to greet him, when they eventually crawled out of bed sometime past noon, or invite him and Red to join in their slacking, but they had absolutely no motivation. Not one of them had even paid off their initial house loans, which was certainly grounds for eviction in Edge’s book… 

Still, in the end, what that meant was that Edge was given complete creative freedom over the island. No one lifted a single finger to help, but neither did they say a word about the elaborate fountain he constructed in front of the community center, or the training grounds that he built behind it. No one even batted an eye when he barred off a hearty chunk of the northwest mountain with barbed wire, claiming the territory for him and his brother. 

“alright, well…” Stretch said, settling back in his arms. “now i feel kinda bad ‘bout you doing _all_ the work...anything i can do to help?” He grinned. “i mean… not like do, but…” 

The hammer paused by his head, as Edge stopped long enough to give him a look. “Yes. Angel forgive anyone who thought to interrupt your rigorous napping schedule with something resembling a chore.” 

Stretch winked. “now you’re catching on.” 

Edge quickly looked away, rushing back to work. “Actually, since you’re offering, I have been looking for a grill. Something for the picnic area I’m making by the beach. If you happen to see one anywhere...?” 

Stretch’s bonebrow shot up, sockets wide. “for real? because i totally just got one yesterday.” 

Another pause. “...I don’t believe you.” 

“i did!” Stretch scrambled around in his inventory. “and it’s black too, so it won’t clash with your 80’s-metal-hair-band aesthetic.” 

“Ha ha,” Edge relied, dryly. 

“got it from cash,” Stretch continued, ignoring him and pulling out the large, brightly colored leaf. “he traded me for some fruit, ‘cause he didn’t want to walk all the way to the orchard, and i happened to still have some and…” He trailed off for a moment, the leaf dangling between his fingers. “...um… thanks for setting that up, by the way. boy, haha, I was getting pretty sick of cherries…” 

Edge eyed the proffered item skeptically. “That is… suspiciously coincidental, but I suppose I'm grateful.” He made to take it, only for it to flick out of reach, while Stretch smirked. 

“...100 bells.” 

Of course. Amusement _almost_ overshadowed his exasperation, but at least it was reasonable. He reached for his wallet. “Alright.”

“did i say 100? i meant 1000.” 

“ _Stretch._ ” 

“kidding!” he said, a little too quickly as he tossed the leaf down. “but if you’re really lookin’ to buy, i’ve got some hotcats available.” 

“I’ll pass.” Edge let the leaf hit the ground, finding the item that popped up to be exactly as described and in perfect working order too. 

“anything else?” Stretch asked, as Edge put the item away. 

After a moment of reluctance, Edge admitted. “I do have a list…” 

“great. mail it to me and i’ll keep a socket out.” He rolled his shoulders. “you should throw it up on the community board too. everyone could pitch in a little, since you really are doing _all_ the work.” 

Edge hummed, noncommittally. He wouldn’t expect anything to come out of that, but he supposed Stretch had surprised him. Maybe he’d consider it. 

“man, so what am i gonna do with a yard anyways…?” Stretch asked, changing the subject. He looked around the almost fully enclosed space before turning back with an innocent expression. “heeeey, i don’t suppose—since you like workin’ so much—that you’d set up a hammock for me, if i got one?” 

“Oh good,” Edge said without looking up, “then I can put the one I got for you on the beach instead.”

Stretch blinked twice, before sputtering in surprise. “y-you got me a hammock?” 

Edge gave him another sharp look. “You’ve bitched six times since I got here about being too lazy to put one up; of course I got you a hammock. How else was I going to get you to stop complaining about it?” 

Stretch stared back at him, and Edge just brushed it off, moving on to fit the final board in place. 

A summer cricket hopped past them on the pathway, a couple of birds calling out as they flew overhead. Stretch looked back over his neighbors yards. To his left was Coffee, hanging out outside for once, blind to the world as he played on his switch. He was curled up in a big chair, under the shade of a large tree. In the corner was an easel with some art supplies, and beside his mailbox was a coffee machine with all the fixings. Past him was Cash’s place, with an over-the-top lounge chair and packed with the sort of shiny trinkets he loved to look at but never ended up buying for himself. 

Another one of those nice ocean breezes picked up as Stretch considered the quiet island that never changed. He thought about ‘Fell Mountain’ and that completely-necessary training grounds only one person was ever going to use. But he also thought about the comfy lawn chairs and cooler that found their way to Sans’s favorite fishing spot at the end of the pier. He thought about all those flowers Coffee liked that had been rounded up in a community garden, which was coincidentally located right across the street from them. Everything in the park was painted black, or had maybe one too many spikes, but each of the new benches had an ashtray, and there were a couple of really nice cars tables set up by the vending machines. 

He thought about the hill the brothers hadn’t chained up for themselves. The one with the brand new inclines, making it easy to get the top, and the soft blankets spread across the clearing, and the telescope that turned out to be perfect for stargazing. 

“so… whose idea was it to put a doghouse in slim’s yard?” 

“In my defense,” Edge replied, the hint of a smirk crawling into place. “He seems to think it’s funny. And he _asked_ for the kiddie pool.” 

Turning back, Stretch returned to his earlier position on the fence, this time fixing the other with a soft smile. “you know what, edge? you’re like… _really_ cool.” 

The next swing missed the nail. In fact, it missed the fence completely as Edge fumbled it, flustered, preceding to lose his grip on both the board and the extra nails. 

Stretch burst out laughing. “oh yeah; _super_ cool!” 

Edge quickly flipped him off, although the flush across his face said he was still reeling from the unexpected comment. “Keeping laughing and the next board is going up your ass,” he threatened unconvincingly, which only made Stretch laugh harder. 

The sound soothed Edge’s frazzle, and was contagious enough to nearly sucker him into joining. Instead, he began to sift through the grass to find the loose nails, listening as Stretch eventually trailed off and shifted to a new topic, thinking maybe his new neighbors weren’t that bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, my original intention was for this story to end with Stretch being like ‘hey sexy, sweaty guy who’s building my fence, don’t suppose you wanna come inside for some lemonade? because i don’t have any, but you should come in anyways~’ but the more I played with that the more I really wanted to follow that thread, and it was already kinda long, and of all the ones to make _Explicit_.… didn't really want to start with the _Animal Crossing_ crossover. XD 
> 
> (Although 100% they would have been halfway through the hokey-pokey, when someone would have just walked right in—as ya do in Animal Crossing—like ‘yo stretch, came to visit. oh shit, you’re banging the new guy. didn’t think he was dtf; heeeey, edge~.’ ;) 
> 
> Please let me know what you think~!


	7. Long Day | SweetMoney | M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [SweetMoney (Cash/Sugar) | M | Ectobreasts, light petting ]

Sugar was already nestled against a throne of pillows, snuggled up beneath a heavy comforter in his favorite pajamas and reading a book to help him settle for the night; but all of it was flung aside as his phone let out a specific text-tone and Sugar lunged for it. 

Cash always sent the sweetest little ‘good-night’ texts, and his soul fluttered with anticipation as he fumbled the cell. It was hardly a new thing, he and Cash had been dating for months, yet every interaction still had his heart reacting like a small child on Christmas. 

This wasn’t quite the message he was expecting, however. 

**Cash: [** u busy? can i come over? **]**

Sugar flopped back down into the pillows. Now? It was pretty late. Not that Cash hadn’t snuck over late plenty of times before. Utilizing shortcuts to bypass Blood just so he could crawl under the covers, whispering sweet nonsense, warm hands finding their way beneath Sugar’s clothes, and— 

Sugar flushed. 

There wasn’t time to fool around. It was late and he had work in the morning. He was already behind schedule, since the last chapter had ended on a cliffhanger, and the light should have been off ten minutes ago.

_...still…_

Another message popped up before he could think about it too long. 

**Cash: [** no funny business. promise. just want 2 c u. **]**

Sugar pouted. 

Well, that was fine then. Cash was a wonderful snuggler, and Sugar always slept better when he was nestled in his lovers arms. Cash, he knew, slept better that way also. 

**Cash: [** i might already b outside so… **]**

Sugar laughed. 

**Cash: [** i mean i can just crash on the porch or w/e **]**

 **Cash: [** alone **]**

 **Cash: [** in the cold **]**

 **Cash: [** all night **]**

 **Sugar: [** Would you just come in!! Fffnshdkwu! **]**

There wasn’t much time to prepare before Cash appeared at the foot of his bed, looking even more ragged and worn than usual. His whole body was slumped forward, exuding exhaustion as he failed to hold himself up right, his eye light dull as he shuffled forward. 

“Cash?” Sugar worried, starting to sit up only to ‘ _eep!_ ’ as Cash tettered forward and just crashed on top of him. Sugar barely managed to get his various limbs out of the way before he accidentally kneed him somewhere painful. 

Cash’s face landed square between his breasts and Sugar flushed, his nightshirt feeling suddenly far too thin— to say nothing of how little his skimpy shorts covered once Cash decided to crawled under the covers with him. His soul started another round of shy fluttering as Cash’s arms circled his waist, pressing tighter against his chest— 

— then let out a horrible groan. A deep, broken sound that reverberated against Sugar’s sternum. 

Sugar shifted, nudging Cash into a more comfortable position. Still sprawled on top of him, but full on the bed instead of half on the floor, with Sugar’s knees up on either side of his chest to hold him close, and one hand smoothing over his spine, the other petting over the curve of his skull. 

“Bad day?” he asked.

Cash let out another groan, this one pitched with annoyance. “...naw.” His words were muffled by fabric. “m’day was just peachy. super swell! nothing but hookers and blow…”

“Guess I should be jealous then.” 

“i wouldn’t be…” Cash grumbled, and Sugar continued to draw soothing circles and patterns around his head, feeling the tension start to ease out of his bones. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

A sigh, long and warm against his chest. “no, i... just… not really. it was just a really… _long_ day…” 

He sounded exhausted and Sugar ached with sympathy. Cash wasn’t the type to lean on others, always hiding his problems beheath jokes or tricks, insisting no one else needed to ‘ _deal with his shit._ ’ It had taken a long time for him to start opening up to Sugar when things were getting rough. It meant that Cash trusted him, and Sugar wished so desperately that he could reward that trust with answers or solutions to problems that he just didn’t have. 

Sugar leaned down to kiss him, squeezing with his whole body to hold him closer. Cash sighed, relief and satisfaction palpable in his voice as he hugged back. They sat like that for a while, clinging tightly to each other before relaxing back into the soft cuddling. 

Sugar returned to his petting. “Is there anything I could do to help?” He asked. “Anything at all?” 

“honestly? yer doing a pretty good job a’ready…” Cash was starting to sound more like his usual self as he sighed again. “sorry. fer comin over this late, ‘n dumping all this on ya.” 

“Nonsense,” Sugar rejected, as sharp but kindly as he could manage. “I’m your boyfriend. And I want to be there for the good days and the bad. Even when there’s nothing I can do… at least let me be there for you. Even if it’s just as a really _boney_ mattress.”

Cash glanced up, a lopsided grin tugging into place before snuggling back against his chest. “god, i don’t deserve you…” 

Sugar arched a brow. “What an absurd thing to say into my tits.” 

“oh, i _definitely_ don’t deserve your tits,” Cash said, tilting his head to nip at the sensitive flesh, teeth notable through the paper thin material of his nightshirt. 

Sugar gasped, warm sparks tingling across the sensitive mounds and traversing quickly down towards his core. Cash’s next glance was heated, clearly weighing the pros and cons of trying to wiggle out of his promise for ‘no funny business’. 

Sugar shivered, knowing full well he’d let him if he tried. 

After a moment of serious consideration, Cash just sank back against him, nuzzling back between his breasts. “just... let me stay like this fer a while…” 

Letting out a hum, Sugar reclined into the pillows, letting that heat settle and returning to his comforting ministrations. There was still work in the morning, but at the moment that was the farthest thing from his mind. Right now, he had something much more important to take care of. 

“We can stay like this for as long as you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something, trying to get back into the swing of things. Not my best work, but the dialog ‘What an absurd thing to say into my tits’ has been rattling around in my brain since the dawn of time, so I’m glad I finally got it down. Hopefully, I’ll be able to write more soon.


	8. Tadpoles and Poppycock | SpicyHoney | T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [SpicyHoney, EdgeBerry, (SpicyHoneyBerry?) | T | Labyrinth Crossover, Ogling ]
> 
> I _FINALLY_ got this finished! Inspired by a twitter thread by Hawifi - https://twitter.com/hawifi1/status/1237891617404542978?s=21 from all the way back in-... Jesus.... -And some awesome artwork of Goblin King Edge~ https://twitter.com/hawifi1/status/1238334103381921792?s=21

Imprisoned and bound to the floor of the goblin’s castle—by a chain and cuffs that left little room to move—Stretch had no choice but to watch the spectacle unfold with incredibly mixed feeling. 

Frankly, for someone so dark, mysterious, and utterly intimidating—to also be the most dramatically ridiculous monster he’d ever seen… was pretty impressive. 

~~(And also weirdly a little bit sexy?)~~

When he’d been abducted and taken hostage by the _actual_ Goblin King from those old books he’d used to read to Blue at night, getting to see said-King burst into song and flamboyantly dance around the throne room to the cheers of his adoring minions, hadn’t even been close to the list of things he’d been expecting to happen. 

Four times now he’d told himself that the day could not get any weirder, and he was officially retiring that expression until further notice. 

The Goblin King—Edge, apparently was his name—spun around to spring across the fire pit in the center of the room, launching into the chorus. Around them, the goblins joined in tunelessly, bumbling about or flinging dishes to shatter against nearby walls. Stretch glared when one of them stumbled into him, spilling what he supposed was the goblin-equivalent of beer on his hoodie, although the off-green sludge didn’t resemble any sort of drink he recognized. They didn’t seem impressed by his anger, blowing a raspberry and cackled as they wobbled off to rejoin their fearless leader just in time for the bridge. 

They weren’t particularly charming creatures, although Stretch had to feel a little bad for them. Edge seemed just as likely to backhand them for any insubordination as he was to laugh and dance around the room with them. The same went for his little troglodyte-of-a-brother, Red, who was watching the party from the sidelines with amusement. 

Around them, the goblins let out another uproarious cheer, drink and rubbish flying everywhere. 

Well, Stretch mused, least they seemed to be enjoying themselves. 

The music kicked up for the final chorus, the Goblin King continuing to strut across the room in stupidly-high heels, body keeping beat to the music. Stretch did his best not to stare, but it was hard to keep his eyes off the confident swing of his hips—especially given the way those incredibly tight pants clung to his hip bones—as he belted out the last line of the song. 

Stretch knew damn well he was going to have quite a few dreams about those swaying hips after this was over… 

The music continued to petter along, the goblins dragging it out far longer than it needed to be, but Edge seemed satisfied with the conclusion, making his was back over to the elaborate throne next to Stretch. Either that, or he’d simply lost interest in the proceeding, choosing instead to sprawl across the chair, kicking one of those long legs over the arm, and bringing a sharp heel dangerously close to the side of Stretch’s skull. 

Stretch pretty much expected to be ignored, but a glance over found Edge considering him with a smirk, barely out of breath from the exertion, long fingers expertly twirling his riding crop while the other propped up his chin. “Impressed, Poppet?” 

Yeah, honestly, a little—like: Damn! But Stretch just scoffed, forcing his eye lights to roll around his sockets. 

“sure thing, your royal edge-ness. practice often? got the choreography down and everything.” 

“Of course,” Edge purred, the words rumbling as they passed his sharpened teeth. Stretch considered it a mockery for someone who could spout the most obsured lines, to have a voice as deep and dark as the finest roasted coffee. “We goblins have a rich music culture. It’s imperative to stay in practice.” 

There was a lot to unpack there, but Stretch chose to hone in on the obvious, his brow bone raising. “you’re not a goblin.” It wasn’t even up for debate. The goblins did range pretty dramatically in general shape and appearance, and The Goblin King had always been described as a goblin in every fairytale Stretch had ever seen, but… there was no mistaking Edge for anything but a skeleton monster. A particularly gorgeous one, to be sure, with cheekbones that could cut, and shoulders that—what was he saying? “y-you’re a skeleton. like me.” 

Edge only looked amused by his assessment, brushing it away with a flick of his wrist. “A goblin king that isn’t a goblin? How do you suppose I pulled that off? I’ll admit some similarities between us, but a goblin’s a goblin, little skeleton.” 

“but you’re not though!” 

“Poppets head is full of tadpoles and poppycock, Nyeheheheh!” 

The absurdity juxtaposed all that smooth, dramatic villainy so well, and Stretch couldn’t fight the laughter that bubbles up inside of him. _“fuckin-... **what?**_ ” 

Edge seemed pleased with that response, instead turning his attention to the riding crop in his hands. His long fingers twirled it around twice more—only for it to vanish, replaced by a clear glass orb, delicately perched on his sharpened claws. As Stretch watched, the glass clouded over with a soft mist that parted to reveal his brother, struggling his way across some brightly colored tiles. 

“Oh good,” Edge said, proffering the item so Stretch could have a better look. “He’s gotten himself turned around. The color maze will only bring him further from my castle.” Stretch glared, but as usual Edge didn’t notice or didn’t care. Instead, he lounged back in the chair, as smug as can be. “It’s only a matter of time now before he gives up.” 

“gives up?” Stretch repeated with a scoff. “ _blue?_ ” 

“Yes, _Blue_ ,” he snarked, rolling the orb about his palm arrogantly. “My labyrinth is far too tricky. In no time he will realize that I was right and admit his defeat.”

There was a commotion from the center of the room as one of the goblins was shoved into the fire, and scrambled around the room in babbling-panic until someone doused them in sludge-drink—to bursts of laughter and jovial mockery. The excitement distracted him for a moment, before Stretch turned back with a look. “sorry edgelord, but my bro doesn’t exactly ‘give up’.” 

“Oh, but he will,” Edge remarked in that sultry tone of his. “No one who has ever faced my labyrinth has beaten it.” 

“...and how many people have tried?” 

“He will be the first.” 

Stretch burst into laughter. 

God, this was all so ridiculous. 

Edge returned to the crystal, watching intently as Blue made it past the last of the tiles—only to fall through some kind of trap door right at the end of it. He chuckled, but this one wasn’t boisterous, or maliciously gleeful. It was soft, nearly hidden away beneath his breath. 

Stretch frowned, familiar with that look, especially directed at his brother. “...why are you doing this? kidnapping me? making him go through all this?” 

“Because he called me.” 

“ugh—that’s just an old expression!” Stretch snapped. “literally everyone says that when their siblings are being annoying!” It hadn’t even been a real fight. Blue had just been exasperated because Stretch was trying to get out of dish duty again for the third time that week. “how come you’ve never taken anyone away before!?” 

“Because no ones ever gotten it _right_ before,” he said fiercely, turning back to the crystal, expression proud and—Stretch was sure of it now—terribly fond, as though guessing his super-secret password cunning feat instead of random luck. “He said all the right words, and in return: I have granted his wish.” 

Stretch wanted to shout that wasn’t even what Blue actually wanted! He had made that clear immediately by begging for his brother’s return, and agreeing to undertake the sinister labyrinth in the first place. But Stretch had already tried that argument. Twice. And both times Edge had waved him off, calling it irrelevant. 

So he just glared. “sure, got it. but what do _you_ get out of all this? what do you want?” 

Edge began to play with the small orb, rolling Blue’s image back and forth across his fingers, the image inside remaining upright as he did. “I want for him to give up. To surrender.” Phalanges ensnared the glass, putting it out like a puff of smoke in his fist. “To me. To give in and accept that I have done all of this for him.” His voice softened again. “To let me worship him.”

Stretch looked away. 

Across the room, Red was watching them closely. There was no way to tell what he thought of the matter, his face stuck in that perpetual grin. Around the room the goblins continued to chatter, unconcerned with their King’s conversation, and uninterested in his prisoner.

“it won’t happen,” Stretch said simply. “you don’t know blue like i do. he’ll make it here. you’ll see.”

Sudden movement from the throne made him flinch. Next thing he knew Edge was in front of him, firmly grabbing his chin and forcing his face up. Blood red eye lights flashed a warning. “Not if there a single thing I can do to prevent it, Poppet.” Stretch gasped as he was rugged to the ends of his restraints, Edge leaning in until Stretch could feel the warmth of his breath as he growled, “In nine hours and twenty three minutes, you will be **MINE**.” 

Stretch flushed, a hot shiver rocketing down his spine. Sputtering he forced himself to look away, from those fierce eyes boring into him. He knew he was only a prize for whoever won this stupid little game, but that didn’t stop his body from reacting to those fierce, possessive eyes boring into him.

“t...t-tadpoles and p-poppycock,” he stuttered. 

Edge’s sockets widened. He let Stretch clatter back to the floor, his head flying back as he laughed—loud and genuine. 

“Oh yes,” he said, giving him one more once over, before spinning around and heading for the door. “You’ll fit in here just fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to antagonize your brother. COME ALONG,WHELP!” 

Red got up to follow him out the door, leaving Stretch alone with the goblins, to fluster and do his best not to think about sexy skele-kings, and what was to become of him in 9 hours and 24 minutes, if his brother didn't make it in time. 

. . . 

Trailing along beside him, Red took note of the extra pep in Edge’s arrogant strut, and the unabashed pleasure glinting in his eye as they made their way down the castle corridor. Stuffing his hands in his pocket he rocked his skull to the side to work out a kink in his neck. “heya boss? ya ever think maybe, uh… you’ve been focusin’ on the wrong brother?” 

Never one to do things halfway, Edge all but screeched to a stop, whipping around to give him a look of pure, rigorous indignation—before spinning forward again and stopping away with a huff, that famous Goblin King temper making itself known. “You know damn well what THAT is, _brother_.” 

“sure thing, boss,” Red replied, dully, like he couldn’t still see the flare of color across the fleeing monster's cheekbones. “no need to say it again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates right in a row??? These have both actually been sitting on my computer 98% done for months now, so... I just... >_>
> 
> But they’re finished! So let me know what ya think!

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope you like it. If you did, please leave a comment! I love to hear from people. 
> 
> I’m not _specifically_ taking requests or anything, but I am looking for some little ideas, so feel free to leave some thoughts in the comments! (Especially if they are Edge/Papcest ones, but no restrictions) No guarantees, but it would help me out. Thanks! 
> 
> Also, I have a twitter! And a tumblr and pillowfort (although I’m not as active there yet), if that interests people. Links in my bio.


End file.
